


I should be calling you, Your Grace

by The_Irish_Kiwi



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 05:18:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Irish_Kiwi/pseuds/The_Irish_Kiwi
Summary: Some snapshots into the journey of Alistair and Rebekah Cousland, a couple of confessions they had for each other, and what they meant





	I should be calling you, Your Grace

He grabbed her arm before she could take another step towards Redcliffe, but thought better of it, and released her immediately, as Morrigan and Leliana continued, having a discussion about something he could not hear. His dark eyes looked around nervously, and Rebekah frowned, bright blue eyes widening in concern.

“Alistair-“

She’d told him so much. That her family had been murdered, that she’d seen her father die. That she even enjoyed the company of women at times. Yet, this one secret Alistair had, it had never come forth from his lips. It was too late now, but he had to do it. He had to tell her, his … friend. His friend, his fellow Grey Warden. Rebekah of Highever, his… friend, which flirted with him, that he… had fooled himself into having feelings for.

“Can we talk for a moment? I have to tell you something.” He rubbed his hands together, knowing that Redcliffe was not very far away, knowing full well it was better to come from him than anyone else.

“Of course.” Her soft voice was quick to say, though he could tell she didn’t bother hiding her concern, he knew that if he wanted to drop it, she would let him.

“It’s… something I should have told you earlier.” That had dark eyebrows raising, and then Rebekah was blinking.

“I’ve just become friends with an elf that tried to kill me, and keeps almost getting me into his bedroll, a cloistered sister who has a vision from the maker, and a giant rock- I won’t judge, please stop looking like I’m about to skin you.” Despite himself, he laughed. He didn’t know if she was joking or not, but by the way she smiled at him, he hoped she was telling the truth.

“Right. Since you’re all serious, I’m probably not going to like this am I?” It was almost an instant, and her smile was gone, replaced by a frown that made Alistair’s heart almost ache. Maker, she was going to hate him… hate him, and send him away, or kill him- by Andraste, this was Rebekah he was talking about. His short little friend, she’d said she was fond enough of him that he’d have had trouble losing her anyway. Surely she wouldn’t… she was going to hate him.

“I’ve never liked it, that’s for sure.” She was almost suspicious now, frown pulling deeper. Still, she waited for him to finish before saying anything.

“Well, uh, let’s see… how do I tell you…” He mumbled to himself, looking at his feet almost before soft (Maker’s Breath, soft! And she tells him she’s a commoner, not with those soft dainty things!) fingers were lifting his head to face her.

“You can tell me anything, Alistair, I promise, I won’t yell at you.” Now that one was a joke! If her slight smile and brighter eyes were anything to go by. He smiled himself, softly, before clearing his throat.

“We’re almost at Redcliffe-“

“Obviously, Alistair. Sorry, continue.”

“.. Did I ever tell you how I know Arl Eamon?”

Rebekah was quiet for a moment, her soft features, and face scrunched in thought. “You grew up in Redcliffe, raised by the dogs and Arl Eamon… I don’t think you ever got into it though. Always deflecting everything with humour.”

Alistair almost chuckled, almost, before remembering what it was the conversation was supposed to be about. “Pretty much.” He took a breath. “I’m a bastard!” He could almost see the wheels working in her head, about how in Thedas that was something to confess. “My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe castle, and she died when I was born. Arl Eamon took me in, and raised me before I was sent to the Chantry.” His words came out in a rush, and he wasn’t even sure that Rebekah had gotten all of his words through her head before he continued. “The reason he did that, was because… well… ah… my father was King Maric.” Despite watching her jaw drop, and eyes widen, he continued on. “Which makes Cailan my… half-brother, I suppose.”

There was silence for a moment, before Rebekah blinked up at him, almost putting her hands to her head, but them using them to gesture a thought she could not yet articulate. He cleared his throat, waiting patiently.

“Makers Breath! You’re a prince!”

“Well, I suppose, but not-“

“I’ve been talking about pissing, and cocks, and mad passionate love with you! Oh Maker strike me down, I should be calling you Your Grace!” She fell to her knees quickly, bringing her hands up to pray almost, but Alistair was quick to bring her back to her feet.

“Please don’t- oh this is why I didn’t- oh Maker.”

“I’ve been taught that you don’t do this with Royalty! Maker, the beaten I got when I flirted with King Cailan the one time he was in Highever was enough!” Alistair briefly wondered where Rebekah would’ve found the place to flirt with the King, but he supposed that would be one of the things she hadn’t told him yet.

“Oh, Maker….” She took a breath, before looking up at him again. “So… you’re not just a bastard, but a royal bastard.”

Alistair tried to chuckle, forced one really. “Yes, I suppose I am… I would have told you, but it never meant anything to me. I was an inconvenience, a possible threat to Cailan’s rule, and so they kept me secret. I’ve never talked about it to anyone, and people who know tend to treat me differently… like … this.” He gestured between them, to how she had done so. A beautiful- Makers Breath Alistair where had that come from- bloomed up on her high cheeks, and she was letting out a little breath.

“I’m sorry… I just… Andraste preserve me, I’m sorry Alistair… For what it’s worth, you’re not an inconvenience to me, and this whole… Son of a King thing means nothing unless you want it to. I just wished I’d known sooner.” He could still see her reservations about it, the new flame of red in her warm cheeks.

“I didn’t want you to know as long as possible. I’m sorry.” The words tumbled from his lips, as he bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want her to stop being… her around him, regardless of who fathered him. “I guess I just wanted you to like me for, well me.”

“I… understand that,” Rebekah said, nodding her head, the strands of brown hair that fell from her two little makeshift buns at the back of her head flowing with her.

“Oh good. I’m glad.” His genuine smile was back, tugging on his face, and Alistair could see the way that it relaxed Rebekah seeing him smile. How her shoulders untensed themselves, and she let a smile form itself upon her own lips. Not that he was looking at them.

“Besides, it’s not like I got any special treatment for it, anyhow. Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, despite all the problems it caused with the king so soon after the war. He loved her a great deal.” Alistair remembered how fondly Arl Eamon had always talked about her, looked at her, and remembered a time when he was younger, wishing for that, before childish nonsense was squashed from his head.

“Anyway, the new Arlessa resented the rumours which pegged me as the Arl’s bastard.” Rebekah frowned again, rolling her eyes, although Alistair wasn’t sure if it was at him, or what he had told her. Unsure as he was, he kept going. “They weren’t true, but of course they existed. The Arl didn’t care.” The blond shrugged. “But she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well, the Arlessa made sure the castle wasn’t a home to me by that point.” In the corner of his eye, he could see Rebekah’s hand clench and filed the action away for dissection later. It was his childhood, it was what it was, and Alistair knew that he likely… well, that’s what bastards got, he remembered the Arlessa taught him that.

“She despised me.”

“You were a child! Yet hearing you speak of it, it’s like she was a jealous bitch whose husband was keeping a whore from her. She shouldn’t have treated you like that.” She huffed, muttering under her breath to herself.

“Maybe… she felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now.” He saw his fellow Grey Warden open her mouth to protest, but shook his head. “I can’t say I blame her. She wondered if the rumours were true herself I bet.”

Alistair then wistfully began to tell her of his mother’s amulet, and though he didn’t see her taking in every word, it just felt nice to talk about it. About how stupid he’d been, and…

“Now, can we please move on? I can just pretend you still think I’m some stupid nobody, who was lucky enough not to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens.”

“No, I never thought that. Honestly, I’m the lucky one, I’ve got you here with me. You make the jokes that keep me from always been forced to remember I’m probably going to die.” She smirked as she moved past him, patting his arm. “Thank you for telling me, _my prince_.” He watched her walk down to Leliana and Morrigan, both not liking and liking too much the way she’d said ‘my prince.’ The way she’d said ‘my’. He followed after quickly deciding not to think about it.

 

* * *

 

“Vaughan Kendells.” Rebekah said cooly, staring at the nobleman in Howe’s dungeon.

“By the Maker! Becks!” He called to her, still locked in his shackles. “Come help me out, my friend.”

“You are not my friend.” Her tone was cold, sharp as the daggers she fought with, cold as ice, and it sent chills down Alistair’s back, and he was completely ignoring the way Morrigan began to smirk at the girl.

“Not your- We grew up together Becks, played games. You let me push your skir-“

“Shut your mouth. We were never friends. You and Nathaniel used to laugh at me for being so short, used to call me a child, all while in the same breath you bragged about your elves.” She scoffed, reaching and grabbing the torch that sat on the wall. “I think Howe has the right idea…” The blood of Howe’s men were on her, and Alistair almost reached for her, almost said something, but Morrigan pulled him from the dungeon room.

“Say nothing, do not stop her.” She whispered harshly. Whatever the witch did, suddenly he could not hear what went on inside the dungeon. Rebekah had grown up with an Arl's son, played with him, and he’d… He ignored his jealousy and thought about what it all implied. Rebekah was noble, that much he was certain of now.

The noise from inside the dungeon returned to him, and he turned wide-eyed to the screams of ‘Vaughan Kendells’, as Rebekah emerged from the dungeon.

“Consider it the beginning of the Maker’s punishment for you. I hope you burn for all eternity, _elf raper_.” Rebekah called back as she stepped from the dungeon, tossing the torch behind her, and shutting the door.

She seemed to return to herself in that moment, before turning to the door, and almost opening it, before throwing up. Alistair, despite his concerns, was quick by her side.

“What did I do… why did I… It wasn’t my place, I shouldn’t… that was wrong…” Zevran tutted at the girl.

“You avenged others, by the choice of words you used.” He said, to which Morrigan nodded.

“Tis true. You called him an elf raper, by all accounts he got what he deserved.” She turned on her heel, and Zevran made to follow.

“Come along, Wardens. We have an Arl to find.”

Alistair had remained quiet but now, pulled his sobbing… friend to him, kissing the top of her head.

“I’ve something to confess.” She said softly, pulling herself away, and looking up at him with deep blue eyes, shining with unshed tears. “I’m noble.”

“I know. Fingers as soft as yours?” He made to joke, but how did one do that right now? The woman he… loved. Maker’s breath he loved her. Yet she’d just killed… no, he was a rapist, and his screams had stopped. Surely he deserved to... burn?

“Well… fingers only… but I’m not just noble. I am Rebekah Cousland. Howe killed my family, and I’m afraid, that my need for revenge will drive me to kill him much like I just did to Vaughan.” Alistair took the news with a blank face before frowning.

“I’ll turn the other way, my love.” He said, not sure what else to say.

* * *

 

“The last thing, you’re ever going to see, is a Cousland smiling down at you, as you die.” Rebekah’s helmet fell at Howe’s knees, revealing her face to him, as she stared down at him.

Howe gapped, spitting up his blood. “Maker spit on you! I deserved… better!” He growled out, as he held his inners in place, blood pooling around him on the ground. Rebekah knelt down, grabbing Howe’s face harshly.

“Oren. Oriana. Eleanor. Bryce. You should have killed me when you had the chance. I hope my family and the Maker are more forgiving of you than I ever could be.” And with those words, Rebekah drew her blade across Howe’s throat, watching him bleed out. “My father told me, the man who passes the sentence, shouldn’t swing the sword… That we owe it to the men we kill to look into their eyes as they die. When I join you in the afterlife, I perhaps might do this all again. Because that is what you deserve.”

His eyes went empty just after she finished speaking, and Rebekah stood, taking a deep breath, and turning to her companions. “I feel better… and still so fucking empty.”

 

* * *

 

“I… you’re not angry, are you? I didn’t even think about it. I still don’t know if I trust Anora, and Makers Breath, I didn’t want to subject you to this court alone. It is a terrifying place.” Rebekah rushed out, all Alistair could do was stare at her for a moment, before he reached out, cupped her cheeks, and kissed her.

She made a surprised little squeak before her hands came to rest just under his own cheeks, holding him to her.

  _I haven’t fooled myself. I haven’t fooled myself. I haven’t fooled myself_. Despite his concern at how she’d handled Howe, and that Arl’s son… That wasn’t her, he’d seen it, and at the way she’d cried and thrown up.

Yet, she was so clever and quick, declaring Alistair king, saying that she would rule beside him, as his Queen. _His_ queen.

“Not angry… Sure, I did not want it, but I do want you, and if this… This is how my life is to be, you beside me, then I know it will work itself out, Lady Cousland, who I should not have been pissing in front of once upon a time.”

She laughed then, letting her head fall to his shoulder. “Never going to let that go, are you?”

“Never, my love.” He whispered to her, spotting the thorny rose he’d given her, so long ago, upon the desk in these quarters she’d been using. He hadn’t fooled himself. He would... be king, but she would be his queen, and that made it all sound so much more bearable.

He’d been her bastard prince, and she’d always been his lady Cousland… and now he would be her king, and her his queen.

“But you know what this means… Al I’ll stair at you all day. Ayyyy.” Both fell into giggles, living in the moment with each other before undoubtedly, she would return to her brother and hug him tight, for the second time that night.


End file.
